A beautiful moment which occurs once or twice a week:

It’s late afternoon. I’m sitting on the couch, reading or listening to music. It’s nearly dark outside and I have the lights on in the apartment. It’s quiet, still; even if I’m listening to music. I’m alone in the apartment. I listen for outside noises: a bus going by on the street below, the outer door of the building opening, footsteps coming up the front stairs. I listen for a long time, but all is still. There’s only anticipation. I go back to reading or to paying attention to the music, which seems to fill the entire apartment. But at the slightest sound coming from the outside world, my concentration shifts. Then I hear the following: the door of the building opening and then slamming shut, the inner door opening and closing, a measured tread climbing the stairs, a pause, keys going into the lock on the door of the apartment (and for the first time, those outside sounds becoming inner sounds, coming into this inner space where moments ago I was completely alone), the lock turning, the door opening. It is at that moment that I put down my book, perhaps, stop paying attention to the music, and I get up off the couch. And I see Andy standing in the hallway.